Drinking Game
by Landlady of the Universe
Summary: Have a drink with me. JiraiyaGaaraNaruto


Drinking Game

By Landlady of the Universe

Summary: Have a drink with me. (Jiraiya/Gaara/Naruto)

Genre: Angsty

Spoilers: None

Rating: R

Disclaimer: Naruto and co. belong to Kishimoto-sensei.

A/N: Ok, so I have officially scared myself.  Even though it disturbs me greatly, I love this threesome for some reason. .  It would be really nice to see other people's take on it, in the form of fanfics. (*evil cackle* Write my minions! Write!)

Yea for mommy!Gaara! ^__^

This fic is related to Hiding Place, but not dependent on it.  (Go read it anyway, you know you want to.)

Ooh, I don't usually use so much Japanese in my fics, but here you are anyway:

Ero sennin: perverted hermit (sounds so much better in Japanese ^_^;)

Basan/Obasan: Aunt, old woman

Sannin: one of the legendary three ninja (literally: three people)

Gama sennin: Toad hermit

_I'd like to kiss you in the moonlight, when no one is watching but the stars._

"You drink too much," Gaara is telling him while Jiraiya squints at the stars, wondering why they are blurry.

He glances over at the redhead in response before poking into thin air.  "Which one are you?" he slurs, this time poking Gaara square in the center of his forehead.  "Oh."

The ex-sand nin rolls his eyes and proceeds to dump what's left in the sake bottle over the edge of Naruto's balcony that they are sitting on.  At the older man's protest, Gaara snorts, "You've had quite enough.  Honestly, I have no idea why that idiot puts up with you."  The insult is affectionate, accompanied by a quick glance through the sliding glass door that leads into the apartment and a snoring blonde figure.

The sannin doesn't answer and when Gaara glances back, Jiraiya slumps over, his head falling on the boy's shoulder.  After a moment, Gaara brings a hand up to tug at the tie holding back the tangled masses of white hair.

It's later than anyone should be staying up, but Jiraiya has long since stopped trying to hide his periodic insomnia from the sand demon.  Gaara won't tell Naruto for fear of worrying him, and beyond that he doesn't care.  It's not like Gaara can talk anyway.

Orochimaru has been dead for months.  Since then, Gaara has been openly living among them, a proud (or at least apathetic) member of the Leaf shinobi.  Plenty of people aren't too happy about that, but it wasn't like the Leaf had any choice after he squished Orochimaru for messing with Naruto.  Damn brat had made it look easy too.

Something about the strong fingers in his hair yanking out the tangles as gently as possible lulls the toad hermit to sleep.

"Oi!  Ero sennin!  Get your ass up, we're having breakfast.  Yummy miso ra~men," Naruto sing-songs, knowing Jiraiya's less than supportive opinions about his diet.

"Naruto.  Let him sleep.  He drank too much last night."

"Again?!" the blond boy wails.

Gaara snorts while glaring at the toaster as if he can scare it into doing what he wants.  Naruto is quick to rescue his appliances; he's already lost more toasters than he cares to count.  "You should just kick him out.  He's pathetic.  He's irresponsible, he drinks way too much and on top of that he's an irrepressible pervert.  It's not like he can't take care of himself anyway."  He's said this before, many times, but Naruto remains as stubborn as ever.

"Eh, leave him alone Gaara.  He hasn't been the same since Tsunade-basan died."  Gaara knows better than to argue; he didn't win the last time either.

One of these days, Gaara promises to himself, he's going to find all of Jiraiya's sake stashes and get rid of them once and for all.  Naruto and Jiraiya are sitting on the balcony, halfway through their third bottle, singing as bawdily as possible.  Briefly, Gaara considers whether he should attempt to drag them inside or leave them out there to get what's coming to them in the form of several angry neighbors with sticks.

Their arms are slung around each other carelessly while they attempt a harmony that rather sounds like a couple of cats being tortured.  He's not even sure they are singing the same song.

Gaara watches silently from the darkened room, this perfect pair, one old and one yet young, but almost exactly the same.  He watches as Naruto shyly, even through the brazenness of drink, reaches up to pull Jiraiya's head down to kiss him.  Gaara looks away, feeling, for the first time in many months, out of place, alone.  Outcast.

"Hey Gaara!  Come have a drink with us!"  That is Jiraiya, grinning at him wildly.  Naruto is already inside, grabbing his wrist to drag him out with them.  As much as he claims to hate Naruto's drunken groping, Gaara can't help but give in to the blonde's caresses that land him a prime spot between Naruto and Jiraiya on the balcony.

The sannin grins at him, dangling a sake cup enticingly under his nose.  "Have some," he coos drunkenly.

"I **don't** think so," Gaara retorts, crossing his arms instead and looking out at the city.  Shukaku would like that a little too much.

A pair of arms drape around him from behind.  "Come on, Gaara-chan," Naruto whines, nibbling lightly on his ear.

Gaara takes the cup of sake.

With a fantastic cheer, Naruto and Jiraiya return to their singing.  Smiling (in an effort to remove the pain that his companions are wreaking on his eardrums), Gaara moves over to the rail, periodically dumping out his sake while pretending to drink.  If his companions notice, they say nothing.

This is a game they play often.  Gaara pretends to drink while Naruto and Jiraiya get royally smashed.  Everybody wakes up with a killer headache.  (Except for Gaara, who skips the waking part, but always ends up with a pounding head anyway.)

But despite that, not one of the trio will ever make a mention of stopping their little game.  Deep in the dead of night, while the village sleeps and the missions are set aside, they find themselves suffocated by the silence that echoes through their battered souls.  In each other they find companionship, solace, and a breath of the fresh air that they are so sorely lacking.  If Naruto is too stubborn, Jiraiya too withdrawn, and Gaara too broken for them to find each other any without a little stimulus, then so be it; they'd drain a barrel of sake if it would help even a little bit.

Gaara doesn't find himself jealous of his companions' ability to drink themselves into oblivion.  If anything, he enjoys having to stay sober, if only to regale them with their drunken exploits of the night the morning after.  And when he knows they aren't going to remember anyway, Gaara finds it easier to relax and perhaps try a few things he wouldn't otherwise.

A soft touch brushes down Gaara's spine as Jiraiya steps up next to him.  Behind them, Naruto hums happily to himself while pouring some more sake.  "He's going to have one hell of a hangover tomorrow," the sannin comments with an all too innocent smile.

"Like you aren't."

"Nonsense.  I, the great Gama Sennin, can hold my alcohol.  Unlike some people I know."

A foreign feeling passes through the redhead: the urge to smile.  Because it is late and no one is watching but the stars, Gaara indulges that urge.  "Liar."

Jiraiya kisses him, suddenly.  Boldly, because Jiraiya is not afraid.

Of Gaara, that is.

Gaara kisses back.  Fiercely, because Gaara is.

So very afraid.

Naruto stumbles over as they break their kiss, crashes directly into Gaara, and wraps his arms around the boy's waist, pressing his face in between Gaara's shoulder blades.

Naruto might have the worst timing sometimes, and Gods knew he was an idiot, but Gaara liked having him around.  He never has to tell him things he cannot say, because Naruto already knows.  Naruto sees.  Naruto watches because no one ever watched him.

Jiraiya's hand snakes around to tangle long, calloused fingers in blond hair.  Without any warning, Naruto pushes forward, propelling them both into Jiraiya's broad chest.  Somehow Gaara's arms end up locked around the sannin's waist as he finds himself firmly sandwiched between the two Leaf nin.  Naruto is kissing Jiraiya over his head, or perhaps it's the other way around, and Gaara hates being short because it means that he's been elected 'it' for their little game once again.

Even so, Gaara reflects as two sets of hands wander over his torso, playfully dipping lower while they stumble inside, he certainly can't say that he feels left out.

"Gaara, there's sand in the bed," Naruto mumbles sleepily into his shoulder much later as the tendrils of the false gray dawn are just beginning to grace the sky.  Jiraiya is already passed out, pillowing his head on Gaara's stomach.  Obediently, Gaara finds the offending grains and returns them to where they belong, in the large gourd that sits mostly hidden in shadow in the corner.

Gaara watches them sleep for a while, before he carefully disentangles himself and then goes to find the aspirin.  They're going to need it come morning.


End file.
